You Might Be The One (A Fan Fiction) - Luke Hemmings

Chapter 15• The Backfire

Leyla's POV

I watched Robin walk out of the booth, laughing and smiling, and then I saw the person who was with him. The tall, curly-haired guy from the tape. The one with the blinding smile. He was standing there, staring straight at me. A cold shiver went down my spine, just as my inner voice had predicted. The backfire was here, and it was in the form of Luke.

"Another customer!" one of the other volunteers yelled.

I snapped out of my daze. "Leyla, you know the drill," Faith said, pushing a new bow tie at me. I sighed, nodding. "Be right there!"

I looked back up, and that's when I saw him, walking toward the booth. My stomach dropped. I tried to stay calm as he handed the money to Faith. She looked at me, then at him, and gave me a knowing smirk.

"Are you serious?" I muttered under my breath.

Luke stepped inside, and the small space felt even smaller. My friend, dressed as the "priest," looked between us, confused, but he knew how to play the part. He began his lines, but Luke and I just stared at each other. There was an unspoken tension, an energy I recognized from all our moments alone. This wasn't a game.

He didn't look at me with his usual half-smile. His eyes were dark and intense.

"You look..." he started, his voice a low growl. "Beautiful."

I felt my cheeks flush. "Thanks," I mumbled, looking at the ground.

"You look happy," he continued, taking a step closer. The "priest" was still rambling, but his words faded into the background.

"I am." I tried to sound convincing.

"Happy to give your first kiss to a stranger?" His voice was laced with a sharpness that cut right through my carefully constructed composure. My head shot up. How did he know?

"How do you—" I started, but he cut me off.

"I saw the whole thing," he said, his eyes burning with a silent rage. "From the beginning."

All the air left my lungs. The "priest" reached the pivotal line. "You may now kiss the bride!"

The crowd outside the booth cheered. I felt my face go crimson as my heart hammered against my ribs. I couldn't do it. I couldn't kiss him, not after he had just seen me kiss someone else. I stood there, frozen, my mind a mess.

"Well?" Luke's voice was barely a whisper.

I shook my head, my eyes watering. "I can't."

He didn't say anything. Instead, he reached for my hand and took it in his. His grip was firm. He didn't let go as he pulled me through the back of the booth, ignoring the yelling of Faith and the confused looks of the other volunteers.

I stumbled out into a small corridor behind the booths, my mind reeling. "Luke, what are you doing?"

He didn't answer. He just held my hand, his knuckles white, and walked me past the other booths, past the cheering crowd. He didn't stop until we reached the soccer field, where the sports teams were still playing their games. He let go of my hand, and the sudden release was jarring.

I stared at him, my heart still racing. He looked angry, hurt, and utterly betrayed. It was the first time I had ever seen him look so vulnerable.

"You don't get to do that," he said, his voice quiet and filled with pain.

"Do what?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"Give away something that was supposed to be mine." He looked at me, and I felt the weight of his words settle on my shoulders. I had no idea what to say. He looked at the ground, then back at me. "Just... go."